


The Space Between

by Laura_McEwan



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-19
Updated: 2003-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_McEwan/pseuds/Laura_McEwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two halves wait to be made whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

> This was just one of those bunnies that bit while I was listening to a CD. The kind where your head snaps up and you pay attention.

Rebel and loyalist. A teacher, always a student. Old in years, young in  
spirit. Gray as winter dawn, blue as summer sky. Strong in body, soft  
in heart. Wise, yet blind.

And somewhere in the space between, Obi-Wan had waited, living in  
bittersweet torture, so near to this godlike man, and yet so far from the  
arms he longed to have wrapped around him, from the heart he wanted to  
hear beating beneath his cheek, from the voice that would speak his name  
in adoration.

Hot ashes drifted from the burning pyre, settling on the hood of  
Obi-Wan's cloak, dusting it gray as winter dawn, the flickering flames edged  
blue as summer sky. A teacher lost in a brutally final lesson, struck  
down by a hatred as red as The Demon himself.

Ever blind to Obi-Wan's truth, never wise of it. Loyal always to the  
cause, his strength betraying him in the end. Protecting Obi-Wan: his  
heart, his love, his life. Too long, he kept his silence. Too long; now  
too late.

And somewhere in the space between, Qui-Gon waited as the young knight  
struggled against the consuming darkness in the boy, ever respectful of  
his Master's dying wish when Qui-Gon drew his final ragged breath. A  
breath more wisely used sharing his truths: what Obi-Wan meant, how much  
he needed him.

The Force whispered to him, **_not yet..._** and the Master waited. Time  
shifted effortlessly, from then to now and back again, looking for the  
elusive moment when the Force would finally whisper, **_now..._**

A deadly flash of mercurial red reflected in Anakin's black armor, and  
his Master's muted brown cloak fell silently, gracefully to the floor,  
in one moment emptied of the pain and anguish of far too many years  
lost in the space between.

Gray as a winter dawn, gold as a summer sunrise. Blue as a mountain  
lake, green as a raging sea.

Joyfully met in one silent, perfect space, between one world and the  
next, heart to heart, hand to hand, man to man.

_~end~_


End file.
